Title: Teardrop

Author: Maranwe

E-Mail: yamoriami@yahoo.com

Rating: PG

Summary: Estel is little and finds a friend when he feels unwanted.

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters are the property of Tolkien. I make no money off the production of this fic. It is written for entertainment purposes only.

*~*~*~*~*

"GET OUT!"

Not about to stay when an elf was angry, Estel took off, running for all he was worth away from the kitchen, out of the house, and away into the trees, half-stumbling across tree-roots and over uneven patches of ground, his eyes darting quickly between the ground and the expanse before him. He dared not remove his eyes from before him lest he trip, and could not keep all his attention forever on his feet lest he do something worse than trip.

Tears pricked at his eyes, obscuring his vision and making it difficult to avoid obstacles. It was not often that he was yelled at by anyone in Imladris. Elves notoriously have a steady temper and much patience, but even they have a limit that, once passed, puts them on the same level as even dwarves. Usually, he could even admit he deserved it.

Others did not break things as much as he did, nor were they as clumsy as he was, forever dropping or spilling things: paint, herbs, noodles, stew, cutlery, flowers, plates, cups, swords (not that he was supposed to be playing with those), clothes, and many other things that somehow found their way into his hands. Sometimes it seemed he picked them up to break them or drop them or lose them, but he did not mean to, and usually his ada and Lord Glorfindel and the staff were really nice about it.

Sometimes they were not.

Sometimes it was all he could do not to break down in tears and prove how weak and helpless he was, how useless. Ada and Elladan and Elrohir told him it was okay to be different, that no one loved him any less for not being elvish. They made time for him and did things with him, but he still felt so alone, so very alone. The fact remained: he was different. Nothing they did or said could change that, and the differences made all the difference in the world.

He could not do the same things as his brothers, could not keep up, was not as graceful, and every time someone said, "You're too young," he really heard, "You're not good enough," and knew why: he was human. He was an orphan, abandoned and stuck in a place where he could never be anything else.

Despite his best attempts, the tears fell, and with the tears came the sobs. He could no longer run and paused, his soft sobs shaking his shoulders before he stumbled back into a tree and slid down it, his legs appearing before him. He wrapped his arms tightly about them and hid his face, his pitiful cries never reaching the ears of those back at the Last Homely House that had caused them.

Estel, human orphan, cried for all the things he could never be, the strength he could never have, the place he could never have, the grace that would never be his, the family he could never truly belong to no matter how much he was told otherwise. Then, when all the tears were spent, he sniffed and stayed where he was, still heart-broken but with nothing else to express.

It was then, when he was silent, that he heard something else: crying. His young face scrunched up in confusion. He was the only one who came here to cry.

Curious, the soft sounds drew him away from his tree as he attempted to find the source of the cries. If someone else was sad, he would help them. No one deserved to be sad. Determined to help someone else, he forgot his own fears and sadness and insecurity.

Then he found it, a small little rodent type thing with a tail and little fur, crying and squirming, dropped and all alone, forgotten. Estel looked around, but no other creatures were nearby. The sounds were becoming far more desperate, and the boy could no longer stay put. He crept forward the rest of the way and scooped the small creature up, not at all sure what it was he had found. He wrapped it in his clothes and looked around.

He did not know what it was, but one thing he was sure of was that he would take care of it. He could not leave it all alone in the wilds with no one to care for it. That decided, his own unhappiness forgotten, he made immediately back to Imladris, running as quickly as he could without harming the bundle clutched to his chest.

~<*>~

~<*>~

The sun was bright overhead, shining down on those who moved underneath her in an effort to drive away the gloom. Not a cloud danced above to detract from her beauty, and the birds lifted her efforts with song. Two, at least, of three, were heartened by their surroundings; the third was too troubled to notice anything lest it be heavy rain, and only then to remark how horrible the surroundings were.

Elladan and Elrohir, twin sons of Elrond, kept sneaking glances at their young adopted human brother, thrown and more than slightly worried by the change the battles alongside the Dúnadain had wrought in him. Silence and gravity hung around him like a shroud, cutting off the normal chatter and irrepressible good spirits they had come to associate with the youth. That all their efforts to engage the young man in conversation had fallen short only increased their concern.

Perhaps he had been too young for such experiences. They could not protect him forever, but perhaps they should have protected him longer. Perhaps this new responsibility, this terrible weight they had exposed him to, was too heavy for him, never mind that he had acquitted himself well during their many treacherous adventures to the north, and even to the east and to the west.

They glanced at each other and came to a mutual decision: they were nearly to Rivendell, Lord Elrond could see to the human. They would not interfere.

The trio was but an hour from the Last Homely House where they claimed residence, when both elves and man heard a strange sound, then saw a blur leap from the trees. The twins turned, going for their knives, to see what manner of creature had dared attack their brother. When they saw, they froze.

Estel laughed. "Teardrop!"

Cradled in the young man's arms was a mass of tan, black, and gray. The twins exchanged despairing looks. They had half-hoped the creature would be gone by the time they came back, but apparently they had hoped in vain. How their brother had come by a raccoon, with its striped tail and black masked white face, they could never imagine, nor could they fathom why it had been named "Teardrop," nor why the generally solitary creature would choose to remain and attach itself to a human. The only answer they could come up with was that everyone loved their little brother.

"What are you doing here?" Estel moved his arms as the little critter crawled up his chest and over his shoulder, doing his best to make his friend's efforts easier and not dislodge him. He turned his head slightly as the raccoon's tail swiped his face as it passed, and ended up looking into the little thing's face as he looked over his other shoulder. "Did you come to greet me, hm? I've been gone a long time."

"Not long enough," Elrohir muttered to his twin.

"Sh!" Elladan hissed, not wanting the young man to overhear them. He was really protective of his pet, and as quiet as the other had been, having him angry was not the way he wanted his youngest brother to return home for the first time in nearly two years.

"What are you two whispering about?" Estel asked suspiciously.

Elrohir looked startled, his expression briefly that of one who has been cornered. "Oh," he stalled, then his eyes lit up. "It's a secret."

One dark eyebrow rose. "Is it? Well, then. I shall leave you two to plan your little secret. Teardrop and I have better things to do." With that, Estel prodded his stead and galloped away, not looking back.

Elladan glanced disgustedly at his twin. "Now look what you've done."

"What I've done?" Elrohir countered, irritated, as he nudged his own horse into a slow walk. "It's that bloody raccoon! Why couldn't our little brother have a normal pet?"

"There are worse creatures he could have adopted."

"Oh, I'm sure. But why did he have to go and adopt one that sneaks food all the time and hisses every time anyone other than Estel tries to go near him, and insists on biting. That bloody animal bit me and you know it! Why father stands up for that menace is beyond me."

"No it's not. He does it for Estel, and you know that."

Elrohir snorted. "Ah, yes. Father doesn't like the menace either."

"Better not let Estel hear you say that."

"That thing gets in everywhere! I caught him nesting in a pile of clothes on my floor once. He had torn them to shreds!"

"They were your dress clothes. You didn't like them anyway."

"That's not the point," Elrohir countered. "And he insists on being most active at night!"

"Well he is nocturnal," Elladan pointed out calmly.

Elrohir glared at him. "Oh stop it. You don't like 'Teardrop' any more than I do."

The elder elf sighed. "No, I don't, but Estel does and he will have enough trouble in the years to come without us adding to it unnecessarily with objections to a pet that does no real harm and he is quite fond of." He sighed again. "It is nearing the end of its lifespan, in any case."

The twins continued on in silence for many more minutes, watching the scenery about them change, their keen eyes finally catching sight of their home through the trees. Estel had likely reached it already.

"He will be heart-broken when it passes," Elladan murmured finally.

"Well I say good-riddance," Elrohir spat.

"You don't mean that."

"The thing's a menace!" Elrohir cried, looking incredulous. "How could I not mean it?"

Elladan just stared at him evenly. "Oh, all right," he admitted. "Perhaps I might miss him a little when he dies--but only because of Estel!"

"If you say, brother," Elladan allowed with a smile. Elrohir would never admit it, of course, but Elladan knew his brother was secretly fond of the critter, no matter how much it annoyed him, not least of which because one could always count on the small thing to cheer the human up. Though, that Teardrop insisted on giving him the hardest time of anyone probably did nothing for Elrohir's temper towards it.

"Race you home!" he called, prodding his horse to greater speed, Elrohir right behind him.

~<*>~

~<*>~

A bit confused, his thoughts jumbled and tangled and whirling in every direction at once so that he was numb, Estel stumbled out of the house and made his way through the trees, not paying attention to where he was going.

He had always known he was not elven, known he was different, but he had never realized there was so much more to it than that. Silver eyes, dulled by the weight of his thoughts, gazed unseeing at the ground as he walked.

After a while, the house he had always called home drifted out of sight, and he sat, his wanderings having taken him near the Bruinen so he could watch its path through Imladris, the sound mixing with his thoughts, each emotion shooting through him with the speed of the rushing water.

He started slightly, when he felt slight pressure in his lap, and glanced down into the shining black eyes of his smallest friend. He smiled, bringing up a hand to pat the raccoon who promptly curled up in his lap, still watching him steadily as if to demand what troubled the young man.

He sighed. "I don't know what to think, Teardrop," he admitted. "Never in my wildest dreams did I ever imagine I might be Aragorn, son of Arathorn, heir of Isildur. I've dreamed of being an elf plenty of times, able to do everything my family can, but never a King of Men."

Grey eyes, dark with turmoil, scanned the river before him, then drifted away into the distance, soon glazing with thought instead of taking in his surroundings. "I can't even begin to figure out how I feel about this," he admitted, idly running his fingers through the soft black and tan fur of his pet. "I mean, the whole of the line of Númenor is descended from Elros, Elrond's brother, which is wonderful, sort of. But then there's Isildur. He--gave in to evil, failed to destroy the One Ring, and now darkness is returning again.

"Lord Elrond says it is to be my destiny to counter it, to help return peace and prosperity to the peoples of Middle-earth, to assume my rightful place on the throne of Gondor. . . . But am I strong enough? I cannot compete with the wisdom of the Elves. They are so much better than I. How can my fath--Lord Elrond, even begin to think I could make a good King?

"Okay, so I have a bit of skill with a sword and a touch with a bow, and people will listen to me. But they only do that because . . . well, because I was with Elladan and Elrohir. No one will question them." His words tumbled faster and faster in his distress. "And I have not their endurance, nor their strength. What if I fail? What if when the time comes I follow in the footsteps of Isildur and doom Middle-earth to destruction and darkness and doom--"

He cut off abruptly as something cold, wet, and slightly scratchy touched his hand. His gaze darted downward in time to catch a flash of pink tongue disappearing into the raccoon's mouth, before the small creature laid its head down on the man's arm. Aragorn smiled wanly. "Oh, Teardrop. What am I to do?"

Black eyes looked up at him, and he ran his hand down the soft fur. Without comment, the raccoon curled up and closed its eyes as if saying: Rest. Time enough to worry later.

With a small laugh, Aragorn leaned back against the tree behind him and closed his eyes, listening to the sounds around him, allowing nature to soothe his troubled mind. He could make a decision about what to do later.

~<*>~

~<*>~

Legolas rode up to the Last Homely House in Imladris with a smile on his face. It had been many decades since he had last come for a visit, and he was pleased to note that it had not changed too much since his last.

His blue eyes landed on the company that stood at the foot of the stairs leading to the front door, alighting on the family of Elrond--Lord Elrond himself, Elladan, Elrohir, and (through many relatives) Aragorn. It was on this later, that his gaze froze, his smile becoming forced as he took in the creature perched comfortably on the human's shoulder.

He was sure he had seen the creature before, though he could not immediately place where, and before he could figure it out, he was interrupted.

"Hail and well met, Legolas Thranduilion," Elrond called out formally as soon as he was close enough.

The elf prince reinforced his smile, a feat easily accomplished after so many years attending court with his father, and answered courteously. "Well met indeed, my lord. It is an honor and a joy to revisit these fair lands after so long an absence." Unwillingly, his gaze strayed toward the creature that watched him with intelligent black eyes.

"You are always welcome, elfling," Elrond replied graciously, though the young one thought he caught a glint of mischief in the elder elf's eyes. "But now I am afraid I must see to other matters more pressing and less enjoyable. Enjoy your stay within our borders."

"I will, my lord." He watched the elf lord walk away and enter the house, then turned his attention to the three beings watching him with barely tempered exuberance. Before they could say a word, however, he beat them to it, looking inquisitively at the thing perched on his friend's shoulder. "What is that?"

"He's a raccoon," Aragorn answered, sounding slightly miffed, "and his name is Teardrop."

"Ah," Legolas answered as if he understood perfectly even though he did not. "Why 'Teardrop'?"

The young man glanced at the raccoon, his expression unreadable as the raccoon glanced back, almost as if they could talk to each other and were conferring on what to tell their nosy guest. Legolas waited, half amused, half annoyed.

"An inside joke," Aragorn finally answered, his voice somewhat constricted despite the levity, as he moved as if to go inside and motioned the other's to follow. "We're to have a feast tonight in your honor, O Prince of Mirkwood. Perhaps you would care to inspect your lodgings and insure they are up to your exacting standards?" The human raised an eyebrow expectantly.

Legolas smiled. "I may," he answered, and followed the human inside, the twins falling into step beside him. "A raccoon?" he questioned in a whisper too low for Aragorn to hear, Númenorean blood and elven training or not.

"He found it when he was ten," Elladan answered. "Raised it. Ever since that thing's been old enough to walk, it hasn't left his side unless absolutely necessary. Before that, Estel carried it around in a little pouch. They're practically inseparable."

Legolas stared at the human's back, eyes resting on the creature whose shrewd black eyes were peering back at him from his perch. "But he's nothing but a large rat!" he exclaimed quietly.

Muffled laughter sounded from his other side, and he glanced at Elrohir. "Oh, you need not tell us, Legolas, and you'd best not tell Estel. He's mighty protective of it."

"Aye," Elladan agreed. "He won't let anyone hurt his baby."

Legolas sighed. Elladan and Elrohir did not sound overly fond of the ranger's little critter. He had a feeling his stay would prove interesting, most interesting indeed.

~<*>~

~<*>~

Someone was holding him, pinning his left wrist. He tried to jerk it out of the other's grasp, but it would not move, and the creature was moving closer, ever closer, mouth open, fangs bared, ready to eat him. . . .

Legolas' eyes flashed open to stare directly into luminous black ones, black eyes that he recognized immediately: Teardrop, Aragorn’s menace of a raccoon.

Before he could react, the raccoon leapt from the bed and darted out of the door to the prince's room, which had somehow been not only opened but unlocked some time during the night. The elf prince scowled. No critter should be able to unlock and open doors in the middle of the night.

Angrily, Legolas threw off his bed sheets, swung his legs over the side of the bed, and hastily drew on a dressing robe before stalking out of his rooms in search of Aragorn. He was going to have some words with that human about keeping a better eye on his pet.

He stalked through the corridors to the young man's room and threw open the door. Beyond was nothing save mussed bed sheets. Turning quickly on his heel, he moved rapidly through the rest of the house, finding no one, until he ran into a servant who helpfully indicated the others were in the private dining room, having breakfast.

The elf prince ignored the slightly disconcerted look the servant gave him, and whirled down to the indicated room, bursting through the doors with nary a well-to-do, and glaring at the fur-ball perched contentedly in his friend's lap.

The five occupants looked up sharply at his unannounced entrance, curiosity tingeing their gazes before being replaced by surprise. He could feel their eyes on him, taking in his appearance, but he did not care.

He stalked toward Aragorn, fury in his gaze. "That menace you call a pet has disturbed me for the last time!" he declared. "That--that thing unlocked my door and entered. If you don't want it to end up dead, keep it away from me!"

"Calm down, Legolas," Aragorn replied, casting a bemused glance at Elladan. "Teardrop is harmless. I think he wanted to make sure you made it to breakfast, mellon nin, though maybe you would have preferred to get dressed first."

The elf prince's lithe form tensed with irritation. Aragorn did not seem to notice, his attention returned to his pet.

With an inarticulate growl, Legolas turned and stalked out of the room, flung closed the door and returned to his rooms, changed, and went back to the dinning hall. When he entered, Aragorn was gone.

Elrohir glanced up at him hesitantly, testing his mood. "Aragorn took the pe--ah, Teardrop out to the stables to check on Whiplash."

Silently, Legolas sat and began helping himself to what was on the table.

The twins glanced questioningly at their father. The elder elf stood. "Peace, Legolas. It takes time, but I think you shall get used to our small friend—at least enough so that when he wakes you from a deep sleep you do not desire to kill him."

The elf prince glanced up. "You do not want to kill him?"

"Estel loves him," was the simple answer, and Legolas knew that regardless the elf lord's feelings towards the pest, he would never deny Aragorn something that made him happy, especially when the sacrifice was so small.

"Do you like him?" Legolas persisted, curious.

At the door, Elrond paused, then turned back and offered, "With Teardrop, I think he is best experienced at a distance." Then, he was gone.

Legolas turned to the twins.

"Your hair is a mess, mellon nin," Elladan told him, barely contained laughter in his voice.

"Thank you," he offered scathingly.

Elrohir leaned forward. "If it's any consolation, I think he actually likes you. Elladan and me," he gestured to his brother then back to himself with his fork, "we were woken by that menace in the middle of the night for nearly a full month before Father stepped in and made Estel keep Teardrop in his room, or else."

Legolas chuckled, some of his irritation disappearing. Elladan added, "The only person that thing truly likes is Estel. Raccoons generally aren't fond of people, but that one won't leave. He seems to have decided that since Aragorn lives here, he lives here. Mischievous beasts, raccoons. They show their appreciation by getting into everything."

This time, the elf prince laughed outright. "Well, he is smart, I'll give him that."

"Yeah," Elladan answered. "Maybe one day he'll tell us why that little pest of a brother named him 'Teardrop'."

Elrohir snorted.

~<*>~

~<*>~

It was a windy day, the first hints of winter chill overpowering the mild cool of fall, and gray clouds hung high overhead almost obscured from view by the overhanging branches of the nearby trees. A small group of people gathered under their boughs, quiet and solemn, forming a sort of circle and soft parting words were spoken and flower petals were drifted over a patch of newly covered earth. Then most of the others began drifting away.

Soon only two remained, one with dark hair, the other with blond. Hesitantly, the latter reached out a hand and laid it on the former's shoulder. Silver eyes filled with tears looked back into blue.

"You knew this day would come," Legolas reminded gently, aware how much the death of Teardrop hurt his best friend, whatever feelings he had for the raccoon himself.

Aragorn nodded. "I had hoped not so soon."

Legolas remained silent a moment, trying to decide what to say, indeed, what he could say to help ease his friend's pain. "You had good times. He lived longer because of you, because of your care, and he died happy, at peace."

Again, Aragorn nodded.

The elf prince turned his attention away from the human standing before him, instead looking down at the freshly tilled earth. A man and raccoon, friends, was a ludicrous idea, and yet the bond between pet and owner had been incredibly strong. They had been inseparable. Legolas could not prove it, but he suspected Aragorn had told Teardrop all his secrets, all his fears, and been provided with solace and comfort in return, for no matter what was told, the little thing never left the other's side. Unwavering support.

Legolas swallowed. In a way, Aragorn's relationship with Teardrop reminded him of his own with Aragorn. An elf and a man were unlikely companions, yet they were the best of friends, easily sharing danger together. And he, too, knew one day his friend would die, and he would be left alone. . . .

He pulled his attention back to the friend that stood before him, desperate to ease his friend's sorrow, but not sure how he could do it. Finally, he spoke, not at all sure what he intended to say.

"Why 'Teardrop'?"

At last, Aragorn turned to him, though his gaze wandered the clearing. "I was crying when I found him,and he was alone and crying, too. It--just seemed right."

"He could not have found a better friend than you," Legolas said. "And neither could I."

With a wan and slightly shaky smile, Aragorn turned and left with Legolas. He would never forget Teardrop, the one being that had always done everything in his power to make the young human, alone among elves, feel loved and wanted, like he was precious to someone no matter what. In a lost raccoon he had found unconditional love, and given it in return, and that kind of friendship could never die, no matter the distance between them.